


We Could Belong Together

by luna_plath



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Cunnilingus, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Relationship(s), Modern Era, Prompt Fic, Secret Relationship, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna_plath/pseuds/luna_plath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Normally she would blush and look away or wring her hands together under the table, but something about Jon Snow always seems to make her feel brave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could Belong Together

**Author's Note:**

> Another modern AU! For the prompt “weddings” at gameofshipschallenges on tumblr. For reference: Gallaudet University specializes in education for the deaf and hard of hearing.

Sansa carries the last of her bags upstairs, setting them down in her old bedroom before falling on her bed face-first. The sheets are clean and her mother has surely dusted before her arrival, because Sansa can smell a hint of lemon scented Pledge in the air, along with the fabric softener her mom has used since before she could remember.

She rolls onto her back and pulls out her cell phone. The time says six-thirty but it might as well be three in the morning, because Sansa already feels herself drifting off. She reaches to put her phone on the night stand, only to see an old photograph of her and Joffery staring back at her, a picture taken at one of her formals for Chi Omega, with Margaery, Jeyne, and Trystane Martell in the background. 

Sansa puts the photograph face down in a drawer, frame and all. Maybe her mother thought she’d want to save it. She’d been standing in between Joff and Margaery in the picture, wearing the pearl necklace her Aunt Lysa had given her for graduating high school. It’s been over a year since she broke up with Joffery but sometimes she will find a trace of him somewhere, like the photograph, or the few times she’s run into Myrcella in the coffee shop on campus.

Downstairs the front door opens and closes and Sansa hears Bran’s dog Summer yelping excitedly but it’s too far away for her to make out who is speaking to whom, or how many people have arrived. She combs through her hair with her fingers before going downstairs, knowing she doesn’t look her best after a long drive, but hoping that it will be only family tonight, with so many friends and relatives arriving soon.

Rounding the corner into the entryway, Sansa first notices the massive white dog that trots over to her, licking her hands and getting little white hairs all over her black jeans.

“Hey, Sansa, good to see you.”

Jon Snow gives her a hug, a backpack slung over his shoulder. Her arms are around his neck before she’s found her voice.

“It’s good to see you too! I didn’t know you were coming tonight, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. For some reason I thought you’d be here later in the week.”

“Robb needs the help,” her mother supplies. “Roslin keeps changing things at the last minute.”

Her brother’s wedding to Roslin Frey has become one of the largest wedding’s the Stark family has ever had, but many of the changes and additions have been from Roslin’s sisters. Sansa is thankful that, due to the size of Roslin’s family, she hasn’t been asked to be a bridesmaid.

“Let me help you get your things,” she offers, following Jon outside to where his car is parked.

“Congratulations on finishing school,” he tells her, handing her a garment bag that likely contains his formal clothes.

“Robb told me you’re going to be at Gallaudet next year.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in your neck of the woods,” Sansa says, helping Jon carry the last of his luggage inside.

For the past year Jon has been working on a law degree at George Washington University in D.C. This is the first time Sansa has seen him in two years, with Jon and Robb at separate colleges and both of them pursuing highly competitive degrees.

“How’s law school?” she asks.

“I love it. I start working for a judge this summer,” Jon replies, hefting his bags upstairs.

Sansa follows, giving herself enough distance from him in case one of his cases topples down the stairs.

Once they’ve gotten Jon’s things into the spare bedroom her mom calls them downstairs for dinner. Sansa and Jon head downstairs for what will be one of her family’s signature meals: gumbo with fresh shrimp and steamed rice. Her mother is already uncorking a bottle of wine.

Sansa takes the stack of plates on the counter and begins setting the table, one of the chores she always had growing up.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jon asks, nodding toward the pile of silverware on the countertop.

“Would you two mind setting the table?” her mother asks.

“No problem, Mrs. Stark,” Jon says.

“I’ve got to get your brothers, I’ll be right back,” she explains.

“Here, let me take that,” Sansa offers. “You’re a guest, you shouldn’t have to set the table.”

Smiling, Jon says, “It’s alright. How many times have I been over here? I don’t think I really count as a guest anymore.”

Sansa reluctantly allows Jon to help, remembering how Joffery used to expect her to handle everything for dinner without any help. Bran and Rickon thunder downstairs, though Sansa supposes it’s mostly Rickon doing the thundering, with Bran on his crutches.

“When did you get here?” Rickon asks when he sees Jon.

“Hello to you too, little brother,” Sansa teases.

“Oh, hey sis.”

They all laugh and take a seat at the dinner table, with her mom offering a glass of wine to Jon and herself.

“Where’s dad?” Bran asks. 

Wasting no time, Rickon has already begun eating.

“He had to stay late at the office since he’s taking time off this week.”

Sansa digs into her food, remembering the many times her mother made this dish when she was growing up. It used to be her and Arya’s job to peel the shrimp.

Conversation at dinner turns to Rickon’s lacrosse team and their chances at conference. Sansa asks Bran about his classes at UVA, and he tells them about how conflicted he is on choosing between physics and astronomy, but that he doesn’t have the time to study both.

Dinner is over more quickly than Sansa would have liked, but her brothers both mention plans later that evening with friends. Rickon says he’s going over to Tommen Baratheon’s house and Bran offers to give him a ride, since he’s taking Meera out later anyways, leaving Jon, her mother, and herself to clean up the kitchen. Her mom looks tired, prompting Sansa offer to take care of everything herself.

“I’ll help,” Jon offers, standing when she does and collecting a few of the scattered plates on the table.

“Alright,” Sansa agrees, carrying the few dishes of leftover food to the counter.

“In and out,” her mother says, finishing her glass of wine. “I barely see Rickon most nights, between school and practice.”

Sansa hugs her mom from behind, squeezing her close before wiping down the table with a wet cloth.

“Have you still been seeing that boy? Aegon, wasn’t it?”

Sansa feels herself blush, not because Aegon Targaryen is particularly interesting, but because Jon is in the room clearing away the last of the glasses.

“Not really,” Sansa answers truthfully. “We only went on a few dates.”

“What happened there?” her mother asks.

Sighing, she sits back down at the table. “He was very concerned with money. Aegon wants to go into international business. He couldn’t understand why I would want to go into a field where I won’t make a six-figure salary.”

Sansa sees Jon roll his eyes at the description.

Her mother raises an eyebrow at her. “I hope you know that your father and I don’t feel that way.”

“I know. That was months ago. I thought I’d already told you about it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s alright. Things have been so busy with this wedding, you might have mentioned it and it just slipped my mind.”

They chat for a few more minutes but eventually her mother announces that she’s heading to bed, leaving her and Jon at the kitchen table with the bottle of wine.

“Want some more?” Sansa offers, pouring a second glass for herself.

“Sure.”

She’s sipping her wine when Jon leans his forearms on the table, his eyes obviously fixed on her.

“Is that the real reason you stopped seeing Aegon?”

“Do you know him?” Sansa asks, spotting the beginnings of a smirk on Jon’s face.

“He’s my cousin,” he chuckles.

Sansa blushes. “I didn’t realize. Well, I thought he was a bit full of himself.”

Jon laughs for real this time. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. We aren’t exactly close. I only see him once or twice a year.”

She can’t imagine having such close relatives she only sees once a year, but Sansa has never heard Jon talk about his father’s family very often. When they were younger she would go to his mom’s house after school and she would never see pictures of Jon’s father, or any other evidence that he had extended family. Even when she and Jon had been especially close Sansa never pressed the issue, not wanting to pry, especially once she overheard her parents talking about Jon’s father Rhaegar and his wife Elia Martell.

“He’s nothing like you.”

Sansa isn’t sure why she says it, but the statement is true enough.

Looking right at her, Jon says, “He has good taste. Like me.”

Normally she would blush and look away or wring her hands together under the table, but something about Jon Snow always seems to make her feel brave. She stands from her chair and walks toward the doorway.

“Are you coming?”

Jon follows her upstairs, the pair of them standing on the landing while she listens for any signs of Bran and Rickon. She takes his hand and leads him into her room, shutting the door behind them as quietly as possible. He opens his mouth to say something, but Sansa places her finger against his lips, mouthing “shh” as her brothers audibly walk down the stairs.

They stand there, both of them breathing as quietly as possible until they hear the front door shut, the air thick with the tension of waiting, heat sinking into the pit of her belly.

Jon slides his arms around her and presses his lips to hers. It is the first time anyone has kissed Sansa in six months and her body is aching for it, straining closer to him as he swipes his tongue over hers in the familiar, heady way that makes something quiver between her legs. 

They had done this for a few months when she was sixteen and he was about to leave for college. Sansa remembers riding home with him after school and spending the better part of her afternoons in his bed, always pretending that she had been studying with Jeyne Poole. She had never risked inviting him to her house, there were too many people and neither of them wanted to chance Robb finding out, but Sansa considers loosing her virginity to Jon Snow to be one of her better choices.

This time, however, they are both adults, and no one will be looking for them at curfew or checking to make sure they’re in their beds.

Sansa tugs at the buttons of his shirt while he palms her ass, the two of them quietly fumbling their way to her bed. There is no light except the white Christmas lights she’s had strung over her window since she was fourteen, the pair of them falling on the pale blue bedspread that’s been hers since junior year of high school.

Jon rolls her on top of him, pulling her shirt over her head and groaning at the sight of her in her jeans and purple lacy bra, his hands easing up her sides to stroke the underside of her breasts.

“You look so sexy like that,” he says, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her bra.

Sansa blushes then. The Jon Snow she used to know was too shy to talk much during sex, but if the definition in his chest and shoulders is any indication he has grown up since their teenaged years.

She unhooks her bra and sighs when her pinches her nipples, her hips grinding into his. Sansa leans down to kiss him, feeling the brush of his stubble against her cheeks while she pulls his lower lip between her teeth, her hips moving in slow, steady circles.

Jon pushes his hips up against hers before rolling Sansa onto her back. He kisses her chest, drawing her nipple into his mouth before moving lower, unhooking the button of her jeans and pulling them past her hips. Sansa draws in a ragged breath when he begins to kiss her through her panties, her hands looking for purchase in his short hair. She feels the flat of his tongue through the cotton and it makes her squeeze her eyes shut, her hips rising to meet his mouth.

He pulls away and Sansa can’t help it, she moans in frustration.

Chuckling, Jon says, “Be patient,” as he pulls her underwear down her legs.

Having his mouth directly on her is a wholly different experience. It feels like flames are licking their way through her insides, like her very core is quaking beneath his lips. Sansa fists the sheets in her hands, her head turned into the pillow while he brushes the edge of his tongue against her clit over and over again. Jon slips two of his fingers inside of her, sucking on her bud at just the right angle, and she peaks. Every muscle in her body is wound so tightly that, when her release happens, it blocks out everything else, and she only distantly hears Jon murmuring against her skin.

“That’s my girl,” he says, continuing to circle her clit with his fingers. 

Sansa nudges his hand away, reaching for him to join her at the head the bed.

“Get on top of me,” she says.

Jon makes a low sound she’s never heard out of him before when she takes him in her hand, pushing past the waistband of his boxers and curling her fingers over his length.

“Fuck,” he says, biting her earlobe.

“Here, let me—“

Jon reaches for his jeans, but Sansa tugs him back, wanting something that she knows responsible adults aren’t supposed to ask for.

“Can you just put it in, just for a little bit?”

He groans and presses his face to her breasts. “Okay, but not for long.”

When Jon slides his cock inside her she has to lay perfectly still and dig her nails into his shoulders to keep herself from writhing against him.

“ _Oh_ ,” Sansa says, feeling him lightly rock against her. “Oh, that’s so good.”

He pulls out and retrieves a condom from his wallet, rolling it on before he settles between her legs again. Sansa wraps her legs around his waist, reminding herself to keep quiet, biting down on her lower lip while Jon fucks her in her childhood bedroom.

\--

A few hours earlier Sansa felt exhausted, but now her body has caught a second wind. Tucked against Jon, both of them warm under the covers, she plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. The insides of her thighs are sore from where his stubble rubbed against her sensitive skin, but the sting is almost pleasant.

Sansa reaches for his hand under the covers. He pulls it to his mouth and kisses her knuckles, his pupils blown wide in the low light, one of his thighs tucked in between her legs.

“I missed you,” he says. Jon presents it as a statement, as a truth that he fully accepts.

She blinks slowly, remembering how college had seemed so final back then, like something that people went off to and didn’t return from. Sansa never regretted the things they did together, but sometimes she’d wished that they had just told the truth. Her parents had always loved Jon, and now she can see that Robb would have gotten over it eventually.

Drawing herself closer to him beneath the blankets, Sansa presses her lips to his, slow and sweet, wanting to bind his hand to hers and never let go.

“Yeah, I missed you too.”


End file.
